Mrs. February

by Karen Cimms

  Callie wove her fingers between his. The look she gave me was pure hatred, and I wished he could see her the way I did for just one second. It baffled me how he could have fallen in love with someone who was a phony on her best day and a scheming bitch whenever the moon was full.

  I tried to smile, unsure what emotion might be stamped on my face.

  “You were wonderful, Izzy.” Chase tugged his hand free from Callie’s to fold Izzy into a hug. I glanced down, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

  “Yes, Izzy,” Callie cooed, patting my daughter on the back. “You were the best Clara I’ve ever seen.”

  While I agreed with her sentiment, I didn’t think it came out as sincere as Callie intended. Or maybe it was just that I was the bitch.

  “Hey, buddy,” Chase lifted Zac, pulling him close.

  “Please watch your arm,” I said. “He’s too big for you to hold right now.”

  Callie glared at me. “Yes, sweetheart. You don’t want to do any more damage than you already have.” She looped her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “I think I’m capable of holding my son,” he groused.

  I turned away from the three of them. “Izzy, I’m going to go backstage and get my things. When you’re done here, could you find your grandmother and tell her we’ll meet them at the diner?”

  “Sure, Mom.” Sadness brushed over her face, and I knew what she was thinking. It had become another of our little traditions, like Sunday morning chocolate chip pancakes, to go out for pie at the local diner after any of the kids’ events. Izzy knew that Chase—and god forbid, Callie—wouldn’t be joining us.

  As if reading our minds, Zac asked Chase exactly that.

  “Um, I don’t think so, buddy. Maybe next time.”

  “On Sunday?”

  “I don’t know. How about we talk about it then?”

  “Sunday?” Callie looked up, surprised. “What’s Sunday?”

  Chase glanced down at her. “I told you, Izzy is dancing again on Sunday, and I’m coming to see her.”

  She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and gave him a thin smile. “I thought we discussed that, sweetie. I told you we’re too busy.” She gave me a treacly smile. “Last-minute wedding things. You know how it is.”

  Not missing the cringe on Chase’s face, I patted Izzy on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you and Zac in the lobby in about five minutes, okay?” Then I looked at Chase. “If I don’t see you, good luck next week.” I nodded once at the bitch. “Callie.”

  The clacking of my heels against the tile floor kept time with the painful beating in my chest as I walked away from them.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Early December

  When you see a falling star, you’re supposed to make a wish. At least that was what I’d been told growing up. Rain had convinced me that it was her father paying her a visit. Checking up on her.

  So what did it mean when a star shot across the sky the night before I was to marry another woman? Was I supposed to make a wish, or was Rain’s father paying me a visit?

  Rain was never far from my mind, but after that celestial visit as I climbed out of my car after the wedding rehearsal, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I tugged off my tie and tossed it on the coffee table. In the kitchen, I poured myself three fingers of whiskey. I was getting married tomorrow. I should’ve gone to bed, but while my body vibrated with exhaustion, my mind refused to rest.

  When I’d arrived in the emergency room after the car accident last month, and they’d asked me who to call, it was Rain’s number that had leaped to mind. Even as I recited it, I’d realized my mistake.

  My mistake.

  Maybe that wasn’t the real mistake.

  I flicked on the Bose, and Eddie Vedder’s plaintive voice burst from the speakers. While I would’ve been more than happy to lose myself in “Black,” in deference to my neighbors, I lowered the volume before dropping onto the couch. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Pearl Jam. I pictured the look on Rain’s face when we’d danced to the band’s “Future Days” on the beach on our wedding night. I took a deep breath and tried to dislodge the tightness in my chest.

  My laptop lay under my tie on the coffee table, where I’d left it after confirming the honeymoon reservations and paying some bills this afternoon. I picked it up. There was an email from my Aunt Marty, apologizing for missing the wedding and hoping she’d get to meet my bride soon.

  Your mother says she’s a lovely girl. Finally. We’re so happy for you.

  That just pissed me off. I felt a stab of anger at my mother as well.

  The mouse hovered over a folder on the left side of the screen named “Hold.” None of the messages inside had ever been read. I’d just stashed them there. Torturing myself. Maybe it was finally time to read them, find some closure.

  If I was going to start picking at scabs, I needed more whiskey. I grabbed the bottle off the counter and carried it to the coffee table. Then I resolutely picked up my phone and scrolled to the unopened voicemails. I found the first one Rain had left after I’d moved out. It took two more mouthfuls of whiskey before I could hit play.

  Babe, it’s me. Look, I don’t know what the hell happened here last night, but I’m sorry I told you to get out. I’ve been up all night worrying. I don’t know where you got a crazy idea that I had seen Preston. I haven’t. I’d never. God, Chase, I love you so much. I would never do that to you. Anyway. I’ll see you tonight. We’ll talk. I love you.

  In the next message, she was trying to remain calm but failing. She assured me that she and the kids were fine but I needed to come home.

  The third one wasn’t calm at all.

  Chase, you call me. Better yet, you just come home. You come home right now!

  My stomach was in knots. I listened to a few more, but I couldn’t bear the pain in her voice. I groped for the laptop. Whatever was in these emails was going to tear me apart.

  “Damn it!” I slammed the laptop closed. “I fucking saw him.”

  Why was I suddenly doubting myself? I’d recognize that son of a bitch anywhere, as well as that Vette. I’d never seen another one that color. That also explained the BMW and the Aston Martin with the tinted windows that had driven past the house a few times. No one in that neighborhood owned expensive cars. They probably didn’t even know people who owned cars like that, cars that cost more than their houses. No one but my ex-wife.

  I opened the laptop again. Either she would confirm what I’d seen, or I was about to find out that I was an even bigger jackass than I thought.

  The first email was from over a year ago.

  Dear Chase,

  I don’t even know where to begin, because I’m not really sure what’s happening here. I guess I’ll start by saying I’m sorry, but only for the things that I know I’ve done. I can’t apologize for what you’ve accused me of because it isn’t true. I can only say I’m sorry that you believe it’s true.

  What I can apologize for is behaving like a wild groupie at the Harlan St. James concert. I never really got to do any of those things before you came along. When I’m with you, I feel safe. I was just having fun. I promise I’ll never take my top off at a concert again.

  And I’m sorry about the photo shoot. I should have told Antoine no when he called the first time. I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel for other guys to be looking at me. I know it’s a big deal for you. So again, I’m sorry.

  I guess there’s a bunch of other times I’ve let you down. Maybe there are too many to even list. I love you more than anything in this world, and to think I’ve hurt or disappointed you just kills me. None of it was intentional. I just wasn’t thinking.

  I don’t know how to explain the other day other than to tell you again what happened. I can see where it might look a little suspicious, but you took a pretty big leap there.

  She went on to repeat what she’d told me that day about the catering job and how she’d smelled like grease, the couple she’d
seen fighting and how she got the flowers. That she’d never looked at the card. About the two wine glasses.

  Chase, you are the one true love of my life. I thought I loved Preston, but what I felt for him pales in comparison to what I feel for you. Do you remember the day he got engaged and you showed up at my apartment, all gorgeous and puppy-dog eyes? I’d spent the day crying, not because Preston chose someone over me but because I’d blown it with you. I thought you were done with me. You were so sweet and kind. You made me laugh, and you really cared about my feelings. My feelings! At night I used to lie in bed and think about that kiss you gave me on my birthday and the electricity I felt when I touched your hands. And that electricity? It’s grown stronger. When you touch me, I light up inside.

  When I heard that knock on my door that day, I wanted to throw up. I thought Preston had finally chosen me. But I didn’t want him. I wanted you. I almost didn’t answer because I didn’t know how I would be able to look him in the eye and tell him I’d changed my mind, that I no longer cared. When I heard you call my name and I pulled open the door and saw you standing there with a bottle of tequila, a bag of limes, and a pizza, I burst into tears not because I was sad but because it was you! Those were tears of joy, not sadness.

  I never told you that, and I should have.

  You need to realize the only place my relationship with Preston continued to exist was inside your head. Nowhere else.

  I love you, Chase. I’ll always love you. Please come home.

  Rain

  “Fuck.” I ran my hand over my head, then across my bare neck. I’d refused to cut my hair again for the wedding—my passive-aggressive response to marrying a woman I didn’t want to marry.

  It was killing me, but I read through the next few emails. Mostly, she just seemed confused. She begged me to talk to her. Once she knew I wasn’t reading her emails or listening to her voicemails, she stopped sending them. She’d write again every so often, but she didn’t seem to expect an answer. These messages almost read as if she were writing them to herself.

  I opened the one she sent me the night she signed the divorce papers.

  Dear Chase,

  You win. I’m not sure what the prize is. To be rid of me, I guess. All I know is that I feel like I’ve lost everything. I hope you find the happiness you’re searching for. I’m sorry it wasn’t with me. As for me, I have to wonder if I’ll ever be happy again.

  Love always,

  Rain

  After that, her emails were only about the kids. There was nothing personal ever again.

  The closest we’d come to connecting after that, other than the night I rescued her when her car went off the road, was in the emergency room after my accident. I never felt the electricity between us the way Rain swore she did, but when I felt her hand take mine, it was like coming home. I hadn’t wanted to open my eyes. As much pain as I was in, I hadn’t wanted to break the magic.

  “What the hell have I done?” My head dropped into my hands.

  But still, in all those emails, she’d never once explained what Preston was doing on our street that afternoon when I’d come home early.

  And I hadn’t imagined it. I know what I saw.

  The ache in my head spoke of too little sleep and too much alcohol, and it made the new vehicle smell seem even stronger. Another reminder of how my life had changed. My old truck, the first thing I’d ever bought and paid for on my own, sat rusting in a junkyard. I’d had to settle for what the Dodge dealer had in stock, and instead of black like my old truck, the new one was dark gray—or as the dealer proclaimed, granite crystal metallic.

  I was sick of settling.

  I rested my head against the steering wheel, only to jerk it up again when I heard a loud horn blast. A car was barreling down the street. It skidded over the sidewalk and into my driveway, blocking my exit. At first I thought it was one of Callie’s relatives, but judging by the flash of flaming red hair I could see behind the wheel, it was much worse.

  “Good!” Diane threw the door wide and stormed toward me. “There you are, you horse’s ass.”

  It would’ve been less painful if she’d jabbed spikes into my skull. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “By me, that’s for sure.” She folded her arms and glared up at me. In spite of her diminutive size, Diane was downright scary when she was mad, and she was giving it to me right now with both barrels.

  “As I’m sure you know, I won’t be there today to see you make the biggest mistake of your life—”

  I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, but she cut me off.

  “Don’t you dare interrupt! My husband insists on going, out of some misguided sense of loyalty to you or that damn race car, I don’t know which. I’ll deal with him later. But I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t let you know what I think.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously? You’re here as my friend?”

  “Not your friend, asshole. Rain’s.”

  “Oh.” I waited soberly.

  “You’re not in love with Callie, even if you’re thinking with your dick—which to be honest makes even less sense.”

  “I’m not.”

  She was too busy berating me to hear.

  “Rain loves you. She never stopped loving you. She’s as big an ass as you are because she won’t tell you. She’s convinced that you don’t love her, and you and I both know that’s a crock of horseshit. So if you have one ounce of sense left in that stubborn, pigheaded brain of yours, you’ll do the right thing and call off this madness.”

  Her face was almost the color of her hair.

  “Are you finished?”

  “I am.”

  “Then could you move your car? You’re blocking my driveway.”

  Her fists curled into tight balls. I expected flames to shoot from her eyes.

  “Fuck you, Chase Holgate. You don’t deserve her anyway.”

  She stormed back to her car and drove across my lawn, bouncing across the swale before backing out onto the road and peeling off, tires squealing.

  If Dennis ever did retire, Wally wouldn’t have to look very far for another driver.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Early December

  The forecast called for sunny skies and temperatures near forty, but the sun never came out. It remained cold and gray. The chill settled over me like a second skin, determined to hold me down. Maybe forever.

  Callie had asked Izzy to be a junior bridesmaid, but Izzy had begged Chase not to make her do it. He didn’t. I sent both kids with my mother around nine to get ready. Dylan would be picking them up for the ceremony. Chase was their father in every sense of the word and he deserved their support, but I couldn’t be the one to make sure they were ready to give it. Just getting out of bed had taken a monumental effort.

  I gave Zac a kiss and tucked a strand of long blond hair behind his ear. Izzy told me Callie had suggested Chase get Zac’s hair cut, but he refused. That made me happy. He might let Callie tell him how to look and dress, but he wasn’t letting her do the same with our son.

  “You’ll be a good boy, right?”

  He looked up at me, his wide blue eyes solemn. “I’ll try.”

  I pulled him tight, breathing in the scent of the baby shampoo I still used to wash his hair, even though he reminded me each time that he was not a baby. “That’s good enough for me. I love you. You be good for Mimi and Uncle Dylan too.”

  He nodded. My little man.

  I stood and tried to force a smile for Izzy, but my voice wavered. “I wish I could see how pretty you’ll look in your new dress. Make sure Mimi takes pictures before Uncle Dylan picks you up. Okay?”

  She threw herself against me with such force, almost knocking me off my feet, and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I don’t wanna go. I want to stay with you.”

  I squeezed a little harder before stepping back. “You love Chase, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He loves you too, and he
needs you today. He’d be so hurt if you didn’t go.”

  “I know, but you need me more.”

  I did, but it didn’t matter. How was a daughter of mine so smart? “Your heart is as big as your head—even bigger.” I pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “Take care of your brother today, okay? And don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. I promise.”

  Whether or not I’d ever be fine again was doubtful, but as far as my children were concerned, we were a family and we would survive. Whoever said hearts were made to be broken must have been thinking about me. I’d just have to learn to stitch it up somehow, hide it away somewhere, and keep moving forward.

  My mother pulled into the driveway, but before she could come inside, I sent the kids out the door. Sadness was etched all over her face. If she came anywhere near me, I would lose it. I shook my head, hoping she understood that I couldn’t talk to her now, couldn’t commiserate.

  “I love you,” I called to the kids. “See you in the morning.”

  The door clicked closed, echoing through a house that had never once seemed so quiet.

  I took the phone off the hook and turned off my cell phone. I wanted to be left alone. Mom knew that, and so did Diane, but I wouldn’t put it past them to check on me anyway.

  I wanted to wallow. There was no masking this pain, and I needed to accept it. Experience it. It was mine. I’d earned it.

  I debated the wisdom of grabbing a bottle of wine so early in the morning. Instead, I popped it into the fridge to chill for later, when I might really need it. I headed for my room and flopped down onto the bed. Maybe it was time to redecorate. The yellow walls I’d once thought so cheery now depressed me.

  My eyes swept the room, then dropped to my dry, chapped hands.

  The Victoria’s Secret signature pink talons were long gone. My nails were short and bare, my ring finger unadorned. I hadn’t worn my rings since the day I signed the divorce papers.